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IU3 



A Drift of Song 



A Drift of Song 

by 
Charles G. Blatnden 
Author of 
' A Vo^lley Mvise," "Ont\OLr R.es\jr\g," Etc. 



vi 



£ vanston 

WILLIAM S. LORD 

J902 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

T>vo CowEB Received 

iUL. U 1902 

Copyright entry 

^ CLASS ^XXa No. 

COPY B. 



A.^ 



:t)^' 



Copyright, 1902, by 
William S. Lord 



K 



tE4t 

C W. B. 



Petals, and grasses, and down of the thistle. 
And wastrel weeds from the hills of Song; 
Blown hither {with many a merry whistle) 
By the winds, — to the winds they belong. 



Contents 



The Unseen Crown 


P»ge 13 


Homeward 


H 


When This Old Heart Was Young 


16 


The Unchained Sea 


7 


Morning Song 


18 


Plea of the Poets 


20 


It's Ho! For The Swelling Bud 


22 


The Fountain of Tears 


23 


With Psyche I Went Maying 


- 25 


Where Lethe Flows 


26 


After Many Days 


27 


When First I Saw Thy Dimples. Sweet 


29 


Outlook - - - - 


- 30 


Lotus ... - 


32 


The Highway of Freedom 


33 


Forget Me, Time 


38 


A Song of Faith 


39 


The Charioteer 


40 


Love in Love 


41 


The Wife - . - . 


43 



To Mirth - - - - 44 

At Last > . - - - 47 

Temples - . . - 48 

Life - - - - -49 

A Singer - . . . ^^ 

Quatrains - - - " 5^ 

Philosophers - - - "53 

Growth - - ■ - 54 

Octaves - - - - ^^ 

Finis: His Song " " " 59 



A Drift of Song 



THE UNSEEN CROWN 



HF sharpest thorns I wove a crown 
And threw away each fragrant leaf, 
"When on his brow this settles down," 
I said, "oh, great his grief." 



I hung It in my chamber where. 

When it were needed, I could find, 

"Mine enemy this thing shall wear," 
I said, for I was blind. 

He came at last; I took my thorns 

And crowned him with a bitter vow. 

When, lo! as on fair summer morns 
They blossomed on his brow. 



n 



HOMEWARD 

HE leaves are falling from the trees. 

The brown grass shivers m the breeze. 
The robin hurries down the wold. 
All save his valiant heart acold: 
The year is growing old. 
The brook hath not so gay a song 
As once it had, but moves along 
As it were haunted, more and more. 
As though Its music, nearly o'er. 
Proclaimed the nearby day 
When it must put all mirth away. 
'Tis shrunken in its banks, once green 
With happy sheen; 
But now along its margins lean 
The ghostly river reeds that sigh 
Like human waifs, when winds go by. 
The sun from his old haunts is gone. 
And his sweet smile withdrawn: 
There is a sadness in the sky 
That seems to say. All things must die: 
All glory and all song 
To Death belong. 



14 



Snugly I wrap me as I go. 
Yet feel within my veins the snow. 
And, feeling it, serenely know 
And bow to time's behest: 
All hearts must rest. 

Homeward I take my lonesome way. 

Night follows fast: the little day 

A moment flickers then departs: 

A great wind rises full of darts 

For all save armored hearts. 

Faint through the shadows comes a voice; 

Fear not, but rather, heart, rejoice, 

Man hath his seasons as the yeart 

The outworn blossoms disappear: 

They can but dream of harvest time. 

As thou in rhyme 

Dost sadly dream 

Beside this stream. 

And yet, m falling, well they know 

(These sweet forerunners of the wain. 

High-piled with fruits and gram) 

The Power that bade them bud and blow 

For higher reasons lays them low. 



15 



WHEN THIS OLD HEART WAS YOUNG 



^ 



HEN this old heart was young, my dear, 

'Twas waxen to thy smile. 
And throbbed with joy or beat with pain. 

As thou didst choose the while. 
But now. alas, since thou art gone. 

It only heaves with grief. 
As m some late autumnal storm 

Is tossed the faded leaf. 

And I can never hope for spring. 

But, as I jog along 
Find more of winter in my path 

And less of bloom and song. 
Ah, well-a-day. 'tis nature's way 

To mar the brow of youth 
And mingle with the wine of joy 

The rue of darker truth. 

Perchance, since hearts age not, my dear. 

When I no more am seen. 
The heart of me may fly to thee 
Through any space between. 



i6 



D 



And I may feel thy true heart heal 
The hunger of mine own. 

In hope's unshadowed kingdom, dear. 
When this old life is flown. 

THE UNCHAINED SEA 

IS said that once the unchained sea 
Sung not so sad a song. 

But, with a voice of hope and joy. 
Ran his far coasts along. 

But when he saw how time and change 
Upon his borders smote 

His laughter died, and in its place 
Was heard a mournful note. 

And all his solemn shores have grown 

As laughterless as he — 
As day by day has grown the heart 

In this old breast of me. 



17 



m 



MORNING SONG 

H, welcome. Morn, and all thy sweets; 
Sweet buds that bloom, sweet birds that sing. 

Sweet winds that blow. 

Sweet streams that flow. 
Sweet light that falls o'er everything 
And heaps with joy these meadows so. 
How sweet it is to walk the fields. 
With heart that throbs, with soul that bounds. 

While unseen hands 

In lyric lands 
Touch airy lyres, whose mystic sounds 
Alone the listening spirit understands. 
Ye bards that in high ether dwell. 

Ye km of Israfel, 
Ye lords of Morn who sweetly swell 

The countless choir 

Of the divine. 
Accept this altar, and with fire 
Consume the grosser part of me and mine, 

That I may be 

Anear to ye 
Who are the life and dream of Morn. 



i8 



Sweet invisibilities of light 
Ye are the angels that do urge 

The soul to soar. 

As forth ye pour 
Your music over heaven's verge. 

Me from myself unchain; 

Into your gold domain 
Of subtle essence let me enter, pray. 
To roam forever with the Day, 

Clothed in the gleam 

Of his pure stream 
And singing his glad songs for aye. 



J9 



PLEA OF THE POETS 



iflAKERS of song did you say ? 
[UAj Finders of songs, be it told: 
The music we fashion today 
Is centuries old. 



Only we look and we see. 

Only we hear and we sing; 
Only we find in the tree 

And we find in the spring 

The beautiful thing. 

Dreamers they call us of earth. 

Poets they name us, and smile 
Thinking that nothing of worth 

Comes from our dreaming the while. 

Laughing, we fashion our reeds; 

Musing, we go our own ways. 
Singing of glorious deeds. 

Singing all beauties' praise 

In musical phrase. 

20 



Nothing we ask but to sing. 

Nothing wc ask for the song. 
Only to be of the spring 

As any bird may belong. 

Given this, and we ask not 

Anything purchased with gold. 

Given this, and we task not 
Any measures you hold. 

Yea, remember — forget us; 

(Fame is a bubble that breaks). 
Only we pray you to let us 

Gladden some souls for their sakes. 
Filling their spirits with song. 

Till the burdens they bear 

And the crowns that they wear 
Grow lighter, or they grow strong. 
Hearing our song. 



21 



IT'S HO! FOR THE SWELLING BUD 

nT'S HO ! for the swelling bud. 
And ho! for the glossy leaf; 
It's ho ! for the green, green wood 
That drowns a world of grief. 

I said to my soul, "Be gay, be gay !" 
I said to my heart, "Rejoice," 

I rallied Woe and bade him go. 

And laughed with a merry voice. 

I laughed *'ho ! ho !" as I danced with you 

All around the happy tree. 
And sweet , sweet, sweet the moments flew. 

As flies the honey bee. 

I said to my soul, "Rejoice, rejoice !" 
I said to my heart, "Be glad !" 

I laughed with a merry, merry voice. 
For I was only a lad. 



22 



D 



THE FOUNTAIN OF TEARS 

NTO the fountain of our tears 
Both Joy and Sorrow dip their jars. 
And often for replenishment 
They come and go by different paths. 
Yet never at the well they meet. 
One maid is fair and one is dark; 
One hath a voice like morning's lark. 
Sings on her way and dallies long 
To pluck at flowers or mend her song; 
The other, silent, minds her task. 
Looks on the ground and picks her steps 
To steady well her burdened head. 
The tears that fill the jar she bears 
Are leaden drops, while those that brim 
The jar of joy are light as down 
Blown from the cotton trees m spring 
High up into the windy heaven. 

Both live within the near-by heart; 
By separate doors they go and come; 
And thinnest wall keeps them apart. 
And, sometimes, there wan Sorrow hears 



23 



The laugh of Joy melt in her ears. 

Like some faint dream of long ago: 

And, Sometimes, too, when Joy doth muse, 

She hears the echo of a sigh 

The glamour of her chamber fill. 

As Some lone wind about a hill 

That lifts a leaf and then is still. 

So dwell they in the human breast 
Till death breaks down the wall between 
And drives them hence. Together, they 
Go forth into another day. 
And are no more in all the world. 



D 



BURST the grape of folly. 
And found it melancholy; 
I burst the grape of fame. 
And found it much the same. 
Then wisdom sweet I tasted: 
Alas ! with life so wasted. 
And. oh, so nearly through, 
1 found that bitter, too. 



24 



WITH PSYCHE I WENT MAYING 



m 



ITH Psyche I went Maying; 

We left the Heart behind: 
We left the boy a-playing 

With Love the boy that's blind. 

Through fields both fair and sunny 
We roamed a-many hours: 

The bees were swift for honey. 
Among a thousand flowers. 

The birds were gayly singing. 

The brooks were mad with joy. 

Said Psyche, to me clinging: 

"We should have brought the boy.' 

A tear was on her lashes. 

Her lips were quivering: 
Her wit, devoid of flashes. 

Drooped like a broken wing. 

Said I to Psyche, sighing: 
"Although it is the May. 

To me the blossoms, flying. 

Seem flakes of snow, today." 



25 



09 



"Let us return. Hereafter, 

We'll leave no joy behind; 

We'll take the Heart, for laughter. 

We'll take the boy that's blind." 



WHERE LETHE FLOWS 

HERE Lethe flows, no sound you hear; 
Gray silence rules both far and near; 
So quietly the waters glide. 
No lotus wakes upon the tide. 
Nor quivers any grassy spear. 

Black poppies, in the twilight drear 
Of that lone land, strange beauty rear 
And weave a drowsy tangle wide. 
Where Lethe flows. 

Sad. noiseless ghosts betiines appear. 
Step down into the stream with fear. 
And. sinking there, no more abide: 
As though a hope had bloomed and died 
Upon the bosom of a tear 
Where Lethe flows. 

26 



m 



AFTER MANY DAYS 

E'S sixty-nine if he's a day — 

The advertising man; 
He's leaner than a hemlock rail. 

And works each hour he can; 
And where he sleeps he's "Number ten. 

And otherwhere is "Dan." 

His hair is gray and very thin. 
His cheeks are ashen, too; 

His eyes are embers of old fires. 
And once, I think, were blue; 

His coat IS such a faded thing 
I doubt 'twas ever new. 

His step IS such a feeble one 
I wonder how he stands; 

The sign he carries is so large. 
So ghostly are his hands, 

I wonder why he does not fall 

And pay what death demands. 

In ram or shine he marches on 
Like shadows in a dream; 
He does not heed the passer-by 

27 



Or they like phantoms seem; 
He thinks of hopes that long ago 
Were swallowed in the stream. 

Ah, there he comes, and you shall see 

The sorry man I sing. 
What's that you say ? You know him well ? 

That poor decrepit thing ? 
Your color bearer in the war. 

And nobler than a king? 

"Yes, yes, 'twas he when once men fell 

Likes leaves before a blast. 
And our small band had turned and fled. 

That he stood firm and fast — 
Advanced the flag in that wild hell 

And saved the day at last. 

"He carries now that banner old 

In that great painted sign. 
But he shall carry it no more. 

For I will make him mine. 
And he shall sleep beneath my roof 

And like a hero dine." 

28 



His comrade shook his bony hand 
As only comrades can; 

One mumbled feebly "It is Bill," 
One, choking, whispered "Dan; 

And since that time I have not seen 
The advertising man. 



WHEN FIRST I SAW THY DIMPLES, 
SWEET 



m 



HEN first I saw thy dimples, sweet, 
I thought me of the nest 

Where Love was wont to pouting lie 
And take his noonday rest. 

So fresh the roses all around. 
So warm his nest did look, 

I knew he could not wander far 
That had so dear a nook. 

When lo ! within thy blue, blue eyes, 

As naiad in a spring, 
I saw him revel joyously 

And flash each golden wing. 
20 



OS 



OUTLOOK 

HEN they were young. 
And first the stars together sung. 
They looked into each other's eyes 
With sweet surprise. 
For they were happy in the skies. 

Now they are old. 

They sing no more, and some are cold. 
And all are sorrowed where they go 
Since all do know 
That youth is pleasure and that age is woe. 

Still, roaming space. 
They fully hope they yet may trace 
A greater orbit, larger day. 
Wherein the ray 
Of some new sun shall dominate their way; 

And that its power 

Shall bid them bud again and flower. 
If not through that delightful heat 
Which once did beat 
Upon them,young,with yet a force more sweet 

30 



Whose strength, sublime. 
Is as eternity to time; 
And feeling which, renewed, reI>orn, 
No more forlorn. 
With music they may charm the perfect morn. 

And so may we. 

Grown placid in the storms that be. 
Still hope and strive for grander things— 
For stronger wings 
With which to gain the more celestial springs. 



31 



m 



LOTUS 

OMEHOW, urged from below. 

And from above urged up. 
Into the light I grow 
And ope my golden cup. 
Anchored, by day, I feel 
The sun store me with gold; 
At night, I closely seal 
The cargo in my hold. 
)ason, perchance, of yore. 
In Argo fast asleep. 
Dreamed sweetly, while, on high. 
The gods, bestowing peace. 
From out their happy sky 
Made me his golden fleece. 



THE HIGHWAY OF FREEDOM 

mP comes the sun from out the sea 
And lo ! his eye beholds 
The first out-post of Liberty, 

And her far-flaming folds 
Of stripes and stars. 
High o'er the bars 
Where her three guardsmen stand. 

Firm-footed in the wave. 
With heart, and soul, and hand 

To shield her and to save. 

Or sink unto their grave. 
With stout-set lips. 
And back to back. 
Right in the track 
Of westward-veering ships. 
The might of all the mam they brave 
And all the winds that rave 
As those upon the bridge of Rome, 
Long years ago protected home. 
And brought a nation joy. 
"All's well ! all's well !" 
Shouts each true sentinel — 
St. John, St. Thomas and St. Croix. 

33 



And now fair Porto Rique 

The Mazing orb doth speak. 

"All's well !" laughs every vocal vale; 

And every grove of palm 
Proclaims the happy tale 

That they are rich with calm. 

The frankincense and balm 
Of long-desired peace. 
That shall not cease. 
"All's well" re-echoes every peak. 
"There is no more to seek." 

Right on he flares, the god of light. 

And now his gaze 

Upon a rock-ribbed land doth blaze. 
The head and front of Freedom, Maine. 
"All's well ! All's well !" the strain 
That gray Katadin and Monadnoc shout, 
"The right is here and liberty about !" 
"All's well !" the great Niagara roars; 
Stentorian of the free. 
Leaps like a lion towards the sea 
Proclaiming liberty. 
"All's well!" the Mississippi pours 

34 



Along his sunny shores. 

From state to state. 

Majestic and elate. 

"All's well !" the golden plains exclaim, 

"We bloom in Freedom's name." 

The towered top of Shasta hears 

And loud he cheers, 

"All's well ! All's well ! from sea to sea. 

While Mariposa's giant trees 

(Ten thousand spears) 
The signal seize: 

"Have ye no fears; 

Full twice a thousand years 
Have we climbed up to be 
The ruddy guards of Liberty. 
All's well ! All's well ! where all are free. 
Lo ! San Francisco's Gate of Gold 
Gleams like Belchazzar's feast, of old. 
High in the heavens it is written plain: 
"The slave shall throw away his chain. 
The tyrant be no more on any sea or shore. 

Fast speeds the sun. 

And o'er the wave doth run 

To Maui's summer shore, 

35 



And lo! above his doot 

The banner of the bold 

Doth all Its stars unfold 

Where he, and his six brothers stand 

To guard the western strand — 

Bright pleiad of the deep ! — 

And high the emblem keep 

That wraps them to its heart 

And makes them all a part 

Of Freedom and the free. 

"All's well ! All's well. O Liberty. 

In this Pacific sea." 

Now looks the sun upon 

The far Luzon. 

And from her darkness strives to wake 

Her and her hundred sisters, for their sake. 

Half-heartedly they hear 

And sidelong glance and sneer 

And doubt— a sullen lot 

That have so long oppression felt 

And at his altars knelt. 

(By all the world forgot) 

That even Liberty doth seem 

This old Oppression's dream, 

36 



A baser ichcme 

Wherewith to trap them and to bind. 

All's well ! All's well ! for they are blind. 

But yet shall see 

And know thy voice, O Liberty, 

And thy true children be. 

Faint not, Columbia, at thy task: 

Great nations should great labors ask. 

There was a work to do and thou didst say. 

"Give this to me !" Rue not the day; 

Let cynics smile and cowards hide 

And money-lovers rail; 
The right— the right is on thy side: 

Thou canst not fail. 
For time at last shall fling unto thy feet 

With an appealing face 

The chains of all the groaning race. 
And thou shalthear the pean strong and sweet 
"All's well ! all's well !" in every place. 

For lo ! so crowded with triumphant stars 

Thy flag doth shine 
The world forgets her ancient way 
And all its hopes divine 

Are blossomed into thine. 

■hi 



n 



FORGET ME. TIME 

ORGET me. Time, if so thou wilt. 

But, oh, my love remember. 
As vestals wreathe their golden shrines 
And feed the spicy ember. 

The gentlest soul that ever dwelt 

In this or other ages — 
Carve thou her name in marbles fair 

And write it on thy pages. 

Not for my sake, O Time, but for 

Thy fame let live her story. 
That future ages shall not say 
How poor was this in glory. 



38 



A SONG OF FAITH 

nHAVE not seen the glory that must be 
Beyond this mortal sight. 
And yet, within the deeper deeps of me. 
I feel the Larger Light. 

I have not felt His hand, this side the grave. 

Within this palm of clay. 
And yet, as it did Peter on the wave. 

It lifts me day by day. 

His voice mine earthly ear hath never heard. 

Nor once expects to hear. 
And yet, as in the Burning Bush, His word 

Is ever uttered near. 

I may not take the path that I should tread. 

Forgetting where I go. 
And yet, onPisgah's height and Horeb's head. 

The golden Sun shall glow. 



39 



m 



THE CHARIOTEER 

HEN Light wheels up his chariot. 

So dazzling his array 
The multitudinous bright stars 
Seem fast to melt away. 

Yet they go not, but breathless watch. 
The while his course he runs; 

And only when he is obscured 
Remember they are suns. 

Again he comes, outstripping Night: 

The vast arena glows. 
As, in the east, applauding skies 
Ram all his path with rose. 



40 



LOVE IN LOVE 

DCAME on Love all unaware; 
He sat beside a brook. 
And peered into the limpid wave 
With pensive look. 

His little bow was thrown aside. 

His golden arrows keen 
Around him made a circle bright 

Upon the green. 

Pale were his cheeks, and from his tyts 

The tears were like to rain. 
And round about his dimpled mouth 

A trace of pain. 

A-tremble were his red, red lips. 
And "Woe is me" he sighed: 

"They never think that Love would choose 
Himself a bride. 

"They think forever he must give 
All youths and maidens sweet. 

Becoming mates, and round with joy 
Their lives complete. 

41 



"Alas ! these mortal maids are fair 

Alas ! and woe is me; 
I would I were a simple swain 

In Arcady." 

He ended, pouting rosily. 

Then all his arrows took 
And threw them at his counterfeit 

Within the brook. 

Upstarting then, he ran away. 
And said: "Now I am free. 

And I will wed the fairest maid 
In Arcady. 

"And I will dwell me in a cot 
With her I love so true. 

With honeysuckle round the door. 
And violets blue. 

"And she shall never know that I 
Was other than a swain 

Whose only care was his small fields 
Of vine and grain. 

"For her I'll clip my snowy wings 
And lay them at her feet. 

42 



And say: 'These trophies of the chase 
I give thee, sweet. 

•• 'And were they mine, and could I fly. 

I'd clip them, dear, for thee. 
To dwell forever at thy side 

In Arcady.' " 



THE WIFE 



HNE bloom from all this multitude," 
The gardener said, "is thine; 
Make thou the choice," I chose, and lo ! 
Could see no flower but mine. 



43 



n 



TO MIRTH 

EACH me. O Mirth, the language of thy 
mood. 

That I may keep forever in my heart 
Sufficient store of all thy lessons good 

Against the keen and ready-feathered dart 

Of that sarcastic wit who plays his part 
So nimbly we become obedient mutes 

To grief, forgetful of thy merry art. 
And grow at last to hate thy mellow flutes. 
Like Some imprisoned soul among a thousand 
lutes. 

Let me of countless smiles and merriment 

Make citadel wherein to rest secure 
That when old Sorrow's gloomy hosts are sent 
Against me his long siege I may endure. 
Laugh at his shafts and feel my gates are 
sure; 
Feast at my board and know that sweet doth 
spring 
Within my walls a fountain bright and 
pure 



So shall I hear with joy my minstrel sing 
And match my lot above or potentate or king. 

O sunny god of laughter and of song 

Whose cheeks are rose, whose eyes are 
twinkling stars. 
Whose voice is music, I hava loved thee long: 
And I have thought with wonder on 

grim wars. 
Of those who passed thee by in whir- 
ling cars 
To triumphs proud, to thrones that troubled be 
When they, forbearing, might have 

missed their scars. 
And with thee danced beneath the green- 
wood tree. 
Linked arm and arm with love, without an 
enemy. 

Vain gods there are who tempt us from our 
own. 
Strange dreams that haunt us with de- 
luding show; 
We wake and follow, trusting the unknown. 
And waste the gladsome blossoms as we go. 

45 



So find, too late, the path is one of woe. 

Through whose broad portals is no gay return. 

Since they do swing but to the regions low 

Of pillared darkness and the sculptured urn. 

Where Mirth is mocked and jeered by hopes 

that madly spurn. 

Keep thou, O Mirth, thy kingdom m our 
hearts. 
And in our eyes maintain their happy light, 
And on our lips, until the soul departs. 

Keep thou the smile of thy contented 

might. 
Yea, sing thy golden measures through 
the night: 
Unclouded keep thy stars, and let the moon 
Look calmly down from her enchanted 
height — 
And we will sleep, not jealous of our noon. 
But like the young Endymion, lapt in blissful 
swoon. 



46 



m 



AT LAST 

I. 

|EATH'S at the gate: 
Bid him not go; 
Ask him to wait 

A moment or so. 
Love is so late. 

Comes he or no? 

IL 

Death's at thy side: 

Love is away. 
Earth is so wide. 

Time IS so gray. 
Love cannot ride 

Home in a day. 

IIL 
Death, take my hand: 

Love is not here. 
I understand — 

Love is grown sere: 
Love's in the land 

Of Mirth and Good Cheer. 
47 



IV. 

Death, thy surprise 

Transfigures woe ! 
Kiss lips and eyes ! 

How should I know 
Love in disguise ? 

Come let us go. 

TEMPLES 

'^BHE groves were God's first temples." 

mil Then man bethought him how 

To rear "a dome more vast, " 

And raised his temples up. 
Cod smiled, looked m, and passed. 

"The groves were Cod's first temples. 
And they shall be the last. 



48 



m 



LIFE 

ACH day a little stronger. 
And then, a little longer. 
Each day a little weaker 
Until, at last, life's beaker 
Upon the earth is shattered 
And all its glory scattered. 

A SINGER 



ENEATH a laurel tree. 
As sweetly as may be. 
His reedy pipes he played 
And lo ! into the shade 
Came, wonder-eyed, the beasts. 
On song to make their feasts. 
And when the song was o'er, 
Unto their haunts once more 
They crept — like happy men 
Who dream, and long to dream again. 



49 



QUATRAINS 
The Jewel 



kfl B^IME gave to me a jewel — bright Today! 



la 



I gazed with wonder at the boon, 

I marveled at it until noon; 

I mused, I dreamed the gift away. 



Ye Happy Rivers 

E HAPPY rivers of her blood 
That her sweet heart enflood, 
I prithee, run unto your rosy sea 
• With not unloving thoughts of me. 



D 



Found 

FOUND Nca's fillet. 
Returned it straightway; 
Since when, could I will it, 
I'd find it each day. 

50 



The Exile 



HOU sent me. love, a rose. 
Upon its cheeks the dew; 
Exiled, in tears, it died. 
Homesick for sight of you. 



GH 



The Letters of Love 

ANG roses over thy door. 
That when their petals fall 
They spell upon the floor 
Her name — the Rose of all. 



B9 



Whit IS Love? 

HAT is love? Ah, that is plain; 
Tis as we give and take it. 
Love is pleasure, love is pain. 
Love is what we make it. 



51 






Aceldama 

LOOD bought, all fields are fields of blood, 

wherein 
We slay ourselves through some devouring 

sin — 
Through base betrayal and the sale of Light 
All fields are fields of blood, not purchased 

right. 



m 



The Cedar Tree 

ITH giant hands thou clingest to the rocks 
And buildest up thy tower into the sky. 
While we, too fearful of the tempest shocks. 
Grasp earth with greed — lift not the soul on 
high. 



@ 



An Epitaph 

EACE be to him beneath the sod ! 
As peace must be, if Death is just. 
In all he did he walked with God, 
And God shall not forget his dust. 

52 



PHILOSOPHERS 

RIENDSHIP, Love the Philosopher's 

Stone — 
I search but, oh, I find them not." 
So sang the poet and made him moan; 
"They are but dreams Time has forgot." 

Now down the way came a rosy lad. 
And piping was he on a reed. 
"Oh, why So happy and why so glad. 
When poets' hearts they can but bleed?" 

"Oh, tell me, tell me, my merry boy. 
What god doth dwell within thy door?'' 
Said the lad with heart o'erbrim with joy, 
"Love have I found and I need no more." 



53 



ID 



GROWTH 

EFENDER of the Faith?" 

The truth needs no defense: 

More potent than all else. 

Gods cannot drive it hence. 

Creeds grow and creeds decay. 

Thought ever upward springs: 
Think not to stay her flight 

With weight of perished things. 

Love neither word nor phrase. 
But for the spirit look; 

God writes a page a day 

In his great Wonder Book. 

Or read it. or read not, 

Tis written, and is Truth: 

And he who scorns to read — 

Is Age that mocks at Youth. 



54 



s 



OCTAVES 

I 
|AID Mullah: -Love, and Time and Death- 
Ah, who can bridge them o'er? 
For they are Soul and Hope, and Breath 
That goes and comes no more." 
The Master mused, and spoke at last: 
"Thou thinkest well, O Youth, 
And yet between thy kingdoms vast 
Behold the arch of Truth." 

II 
Hail, Charon! Take me o'er. 
If over I must go. 
Why not upon this shore 
Enough of joy and woe? 
Proceed: I have no pass. 
What! lead I gave for fee? 
Believe it not: look sharp: 
Tis gold that died with me. 

Ill 
Away! Perhaps to-morrow 
My heart to you may ope: 
To-day belongs to sorrow — 

" Lore. 



And to hope. 
To-day I cannot measure 
My love, whate'er befall; 
Perchance the grief I treasure 
Will take It all. 

IV 

Come, smile and show thy dimples, love. 

My soul would wander where 

Those little vales of bloom proclaim 

How sweet thou art and fair. 

Come, smile and show thy dimples, love. 

That I at least may see 

(As Moses, looking Canaan-ward) 

The realm denied to me. 



The trump of fame to Genius passed; 
He placed unto his lips and blew it. 
A whisper faint was all that came. 
Half frightened, through it. 
Said Death: "Now give it unto me." 
And when he blew the world grew quiet. 
Oh, ye that merit fame in life, 
Co die — and buy it. 

56 



VI 

Patter, patter falls the rain 

Upon the autumn leaf 

As fall upon the cheeks of age 

The gentle tears of grief. 

The ram cannot restore again 

Unto the leaf its green. 

And never in those furrowed cheeks 

Shall roses more be seen. 

VII 

From where I stand, two vales I see. 
And one is Youth, and one is Age; 
One have I travelled, one must tread 
And some few battles bravely wage. 
Backward I look: the paths of Youth— 
The eastern slopes — in shade repose. 
While, lo! the western fields are thronged 
With light sufficient to the close. 

VIII 
Blossoms that dot the fields 
Of lowly Nazareth, 
Fear not to fade and go 
To your most fragrant death: 

57 



The earth from whence you spring 
The Master's feet have trod. 
And he will call you, dears. 
To throng the groves of God. 



58 



FINIS; HIS SONG 

I'n|Y chill Oblivion's stream 
l^yi I wandered in a dream. 
And there I met myself. 
A sorry little elf 
That sat upon a ledge 
Beside the water's edge 
And sung unto the wave 
A merry, merry stave. 
Said I unto the wight; 
"It is a mournful sight 
To see you here alone — 
To sing to wave and stone 
That heedless are and cold. 
And you so very old. 
And you so dried and sere. 
That Love can scarcely hear.'' 
Then turned that wight to me, 
(A jolly face had he): 
"Think not that I deplore. 
Upon this heedless shore. 
My little music falls 
And not a mortal calls 

59 



For me to smg again. 
If I sing not for men. 
The heart of me I cheer 
And happy am I here. 
Beside this ancient wave 
And sing a merry stave.' 



60 



Here ends the little book of verses entitled 

^ "A Drift of Song"^ written by ^ 

Charles G, Blandcn ^ and pub- 

liihed by ^ William S. Lord 

at Evanstop jft in the 

State of Illinois -^ in 

the month of June 

MCMII 



C 32 89 



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BINDERY INC. |§ 

.^ DEC 88 







